


a summer monsoon

by stellarmads



Series: actually autistic will [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal is manipulative, M/M, Sub/Dom undertones, Sugar Daddy Hannibal, actually autistic will, hannibal isn't a killer, warning for ableism, warning for age gap, will's dad is abusive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 21:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10173179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmads/pseuds/stellarmads
Summary: 18 year old Will goes to therapy for undiagnosed autism, and Hannibal takes him under his wing. //on hiatus.  i don't know when i will update again





	

“Was it your choice or your father's to start therapy?”

The boy that sat across from him had his eyes downcast, staring at his hands as he wrung them back and forth, occasionally running his palms over his thighs. 

“William.” He prodded. Will didn't look up, just shrugged his shoulders. Several moments passed before his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“He says I act strange. That I need help.”

Hannibal leaned back, crossing his legs and folding his hands over one knee. “And do you?”

Will's gaze turned up to face the ceiling, his hands now bunching and releasing the fabric of his jeans. “Maybe. I know I'm not like most people.” His tone reminds Hannibal of the scent of a library. Muted dust and paper, little infliction in his words. 

“Why do you think that is?”

Will finally looks at him, but Hannibal gets the distinct feeling he's focusing on the scar across the bridge of his nose. He sounds like he's rattling off a list when he speaks. “I don't look people in the eyes. I can't stop moving. I don't understand half of what people mean, and when I do I understand too deeply. The world is too loud, too shallow, too muted. Everything I do is different, everything I feel is different. I don't even know what normal is. My definition of normal is too skewed to try to accurately compare to others.” 

Hannibal tilts his head, observing the young man in front of him. “What you're describing isn't as unusual as you and your father think it is. Just from what you've told me and what I've witnessed, I would say you are somewhere on the spectrum.”

Will barked out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You're saying I have autism? I can assure you, I know what autism is. I don't have that.” His amusement fades quickly and he sends a quizzical look Hannibal's way, torn between apprehension and anger. At his sides, his fingers are doing their own dance against the leather seat.

Hannibal stays leaned back, watching him closely. “You don't have autism, Will, it's not a bag you lug around. You are autistic, as far as I have seen, and it's much more common than people would have you believe. Unfortunately, most people tend to think of a non-verbal eight year old boy, amused by nothing but his train set. The autistic community is much more than what society's common knowledge is.” Will opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it just as quickly, curiosity peaked by what the therapist is saying. “You say the world is too loud, and yet not enough. That sounds like a sensory processing disorder. Do you have trouble with loud sounds or bright lights?”

Will nodded slowly. “With loud sounds. Not even loud sounds, just a lot of noise in general. It hurts my ears. I like some bright lights though. Neon lights, stuff that glows.” 

“Many with sensory processing disorders say that what seems like the most harmless of noises can be equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. The scrape of a shoe against the pavement could be as painful as a hundred jets breaking the sound barrier. As for the lights, some will seek certain stimulation. Do you enjoy weighted objects, being pressed down on?” 

Will shrugged. “I've never really thought about it. Maybe.”

“Perhaps that is something you should test out. You might find it calming.”

Will stared out the window, watching the grey skies. “Perhaps.” he echoed. 

 

….

The next time Will is scheduled for an appointment, Hannibal notes that he knocks just as the hour turns, most likely sitting outside his door, watching the clock carefully. Will enters looking more like he is a decoration on the wall than an object moving through the room. He appears to consciously shrink himself down, shoulders hunched in and his head ducked down, never raising his sight higher than Hannibal's chest. 

Will is the first to speak, which pleases Hannibal. “I thought about what you said. About the autism. I mean being autistic. Then I went online, researched it.”

Hannibal says nothing, just waits for Will to continue. Will goes to stand by the bookcases lining the walls, skimming over the titles without taking anything in. “The stuff that popped up at first didn't really appeal to me. Autism Speaks was pretty much everywhere, but the stuff they had wasn't very encouraging. There was a lot about finding a cure.” His eyes dart up to Hannibal's forehead, before skittering back to the books. “I don't feel sick.”

Hannibal nodded. “You are not. You are simply neurodivergent. You think differently than some of the world.”

Will seems to consider that. He's unconsciously tugging at his hair with one hand, twisting a curl around his finger. “I found a site that talked about sensory deprivation. A lot of what they described is accurate.” 

“Did you find any other experiences you related to?”

Will shook his head. “I didn't read anything farther. This is all so overwhelming, I don't know where to begin.”

Hannibal finally sat, gesturing for Will to do the same. “Let me guide you. I will be your paddle. ”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short series I'm hoping to write and add onto! I'll do an actual plot and then some little excerpts, so I'm very excited. And I myself am autistic, so I'm trying to give the best representation possible. (You can find me on tumblr as paintingautie)


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